Checkmate
by No Small Dream
Summary: Eternal Diva from Amelia's point of view, how it impacted her life. First Fanfic, constructive criticism appreciated.
1. Chapter 1

She could see his defenses were strong. He had made many sacrifices, but none out of neglect or insignificance. The queen was safe from harm, and the main concern shifted to the prevention of more lost men. However, there was no holding back, even if she posed no absolute threat to him. Patience was indeed an essential virtue, as was strategy and intuition. He used these virtues to his advantage, meticulously waiting for the apt moment to improve on strength and turn to the offensive. One decision could inherently jeopardize everything, but he appeared to be confident. He made his move swiftly, with no hesitation.

"Checkmate."

"Huh? But I-" Amelia's shock was only halfhearted, she had unfortunately anticipated this outcome four moves ago, but despite her tremendous struggle to avoid it, he managed to fend off her every move.

"Now, now, Amelia, don't tell me you're a sore loser!"

"Of course not, grandfather, but please, tell me how you do it!"

He shook his head and laughed, this not being the first time she's lost to him. "I've taught you everything I know, simply logic and strategic likelihoods. You only need to apply it," then he smiled, his wrinkled eyes radiating playfully. "And for a twelve year old, I can barely keep up. Your parents would be proud."

She twirled a strand of hair that escaped from its plait, lacking the knowledge on how to respond to the mention of her parents. Unless her granddad had been missing the past couple of years, he would know that proud was the last thing they would be. After mulling it over she realized he was trying, as always, to cheer her up. Should she smile, or thank him? But if she didn't believe him, why bother with the fake courtesy? So she said nothing, keeping her eyes trained on the Staunton chess set in front of her.

"Amelia..."

She made an odd noise that sounded like a sigh.

"Look at me, Amelia."

Amelia placed her hands on her lap, blinked, and obeyed. Arguing would be trifle and pointless. Besides, she respected her grandfather, he seemed to understand her.

He was suddenly serious, looking at her with astonishingly intense eyes. "You have to forgive your parents. They weren't thinking rationally."

Amelia said nothing, still, and stared up in his direction. Through her bangs she could see her granddads study surrounding him. There were books upon books, on shelves, desks, sometimes finding places to pile up on the floor, just about anywhere. He also had an affinity for plants, the greenery was scattered about the study. Basically her grandfather's study was a mix between a greenhouse and a library. She blinked, taking in his frowning yet gentle face.

He leaned closer, lowering his voice to a wistful rasp. "Wouldn't it be the logical thing to do? Don't make the same mistakes my son made. But-" he smiled bitterly, "-I suppose it's my fault for not raising him right."

Amelia's eyes snapped open wide "No! It's not your fault!" she exclaimed.

He chuckled, making Amelia feel terribly naive and small. Like a child. She didn't like it.

"Duly noted. But, it's nice to know I made the correct choice with you, Amelia." His warm tone returned and he leaned back into his chair with a throaty sigh.

Her eyes dropped at the compliment. She began to pack away her chess board into her messenger bag. "Thank you, grandfather."

"Not a problem. Chess is an enlightening game, is it not?"

"No. Well, I mean, yes, but-"

He held up his hand. Of course he understood.

"I'll see you in a week. Your room should be furnished by Saturday."

She dipped her head slightly in agreement, standing from the uncomfortable chair. The cushion on it was hard and flat, so she was somewhat grateful to be stretching her legs again. From there she put on her coat, the material wrinkling around the elbows. Her grandfather watched with a hint of sadness as she adjusted it, threw her bag over her shoulder, and left the room.

"Oh, and Amelia?"

She stopped short to glance over her shoulder, narrowly missing a hanging plant.

"Good luck."

She smiled and softly closed the double doors. After the silent click, she heard her granddad let out a pained sigh.

"They've changed her..."

Amelia's heart dropped. She stood there thoughtfully with her fingertips pressed up lightly against the ornate wood doors. Changed her?

She left her grandfather's house feeling nervous. How irrational of her to be nervous, but she couldn't help it. She walked at a leisurely pace down to the bus stop, which was conveniently placed not too far. The only thing different about walking this familiar path was her anxiousness. Today was her first competition, and it wouldn't have bothered her (she had been playing chess for years) had it not been for the very reason that she was going alone. Grandfather couldn't leave his house; his condition prevented him from doing so. She was truly by herself. Taking the bus alone would be a first for her as well, now that her mother couldn't drive her anywhere. So, sitting calmly at the bus stop as still as possible proved to be a difficult task on that particularly foggy day in London. She passed the time people watching, occasionally eavesdropping on their conversations.

"Oh, yes, I've met him, in fact. Notorious musical composer, Oswald Whistler. It was a _terrible_ tragedy hearing about his daughter. I hope it doesn't affect his ability to play such..._vivacious_ music." Amelia could tell the woman to her left was lying. She bragged as if to dare anyone to question the veracity of the acclaimed story.

Her companion could obviously tell too. Either that or she had been talking endlessly enough to irritate him. He gave her an uninterested, sarcastic remark. "Doubt it will." He said. Then he raised his hands to shrug in exasperation. "But who knows?"

"Yes, well-oh. Here comes the bus."

Amelia glanced up, a feeling of dread overwhelming her. The bus came to a hissing stop, and she stood. She took a tentative step toward the open doors, waiting until every person in front of her got on first. Her heart pounded furiously.

"Amelia!"

One by one she climbed the steps, gripping the railing for support. The doors closing shut behind her felt like they were sealing her in.

Thankfully, finding a seat didn't take long, the bus was fairly empty. As soon as she sat everything lurched forward, scenes in the window moved slowly before gaining speed. Then something caught her eye.

She stood up immediately, shouting, "Stop the bus! Please!"

"But, miss-"

She began to work her way up the aisle, timing her steps with the bumps along the way. "I won't be long..._please_!"

The driver muttered something incoherent under his breath, rolled his eyes, and complied. "Suit yourself..."

She all but jumped down the steps and onto the sidewalk, ignoring the complaints she heard from other passengers.

"A-Amelia..."

"Grandfather! What are you _doing_?"

The poor old man was doubled over, panting, and exhausted. "I needed to..."

"You must go home, you shouldn't be out here! What were you thinking?"

She was tearing up. Her grandfather grabbed her hand with his own feeble one causing her to silence.

"I needed to give this to you...it's somewhat of a...family heirloom. It will help you."

Her eyes opened wide in awe as he shakily placed an old, wooden chess piece in her hand. That was it? A queen chess piece?

"I don't understand-"

"Amelia. Would I have come this far for nothing?"

She didn't respond. She didn't need to, the question was rhetorical. They both knew he always had a reason, no matter how paltry it may seem.

"Now, perhaps one day you will understand. Until then, keep it with you," he smiled, "give it back to me once you do. That way I'll have some comfort. I need to know I've done something right."

"Grandfather-"

"Ah, don't worry about me. You go to that competition, and remain strong." Then he added thoughtfully. "Determination...perhaps _that's_ what your father was missing." he winked at her.

That was the first time her chess playing reputation skyrocketed.


	2. Chapter 2

_~4 years later~_

_Dear grandfather,_

_I wish I could be home right now, with you. It doesn't seem fair that I must spend my time away from you, when you don't have much time left. I know you don't want me to worry, so I'll tell you about a new opportunity offered to me. You know the composer, Oswald whistler. I've heard you listen to his music. Well, he's invited me to attend one of his recent operas entitled the Eternal Kingdom. Imagine my shock when I received the invitation! He promised to pay for the entire thing! His reasoning was that, after the death of his daughter, he was inspired to give a young girl who had talents that matched hers the opportunity to listen to his music. I hope you're proud of me. I feel like I've done an awful amount of bragging, lately. But I just want you happy. Even more so, I want us to be happy together. Just like old times._

_Love,_

_Amelia._

"Ah, and so we're here. This must be rather exciting for you, dear. Don't be nervous though, I'll show you around. Melina, will you be all right on your own?"

Mr. Whistler's adopted daughter gave a small nod.

"Very good. Now, shall we?"

Amelia gave the famed musician one of her pensive looks. He just chuckled, thanked the person for opening the car door, and stepped outside. She followed suit, stepping alongside Mr. Whistler as he stared at the theatre. He had an aching far off look in his eyes, as he squinted through the light from the setting sun.

"I just hope everything goes as planned..."

"Hmm? What do you mean?" she turned to the theatre trying to see what he saw, and then realized she couldn't see what a regretful old man—who was still mourning the loss of his daughter—could.

Amelia didn't miss the underlying emotion hidden in his bitter smile.

"The opera. Sometimes I find myself..._distracted_ when playing." he then gave her a genuine smile. "Then I think of my late daughter, and suddenly it's like I have this desperate _need_ to play...as if it would somehow return her to me."

What was she supposed to say to that? There wasn't a need to apologize for the loss. It didn't quite feel appropriate. So she simply nodded.

"I understand."

"_Do_ you?" he asked breathlessly. His head tilted to the side as he looked deeper into his memories.

She looked at the ground, hoping Mr. Whistler wouldn't press the subject further. Luckily, he shook his head, trying to gather his thoughts. He straightened his jacket stiffly, pushed the glasses up onto his nose, and tensely clasped his hands together.

"Well, it's rather chilly out here. Let's head on inside."

Amelia was more than happy to oblige, and curiously followed Oswald into the extravagant theatre.

"Welcome, Amelia, to the Crown Petone! This is only the lobby, there is far much more to see. But, I'm afraid there's no time, come, this way."

Amelia trailed behind Oswald, doing little to hide her awe at the theatres beauty. The sounds of their footsteps were harsh on the floor, and they walked along in silence until he glanced over his shoulder.

"I must admit, I'm a bit surprised that you chose to wear your uniform."

Amelia looked around at the people gathered in the lobby, there were few of them—most had already made their way to the theatre—but they were dressed luxuriously. With flashy pearls and jewels, costly dresses, and purely sumptuous hairstyles.

"Oh. I wanted to represent my school." she said softly.

Amelia wasn't sure if he heard her; he stopped suddenly and twisted to smile at her.

"Here we are. I must be going; an usher will show you to your seat."

He turned.

"Mr. Whistler?"

"Yes?"

"I heard there was to be a prize. One of...eternal life...is it possible?"

He gave her an odd look, one she couldn't quite place.

"Such a bright girl. We'll see, Amelia."

"But-"

Mr. Whistler left before she could get a full sentence. "-I don't want it…"

She was getting ahead of herself though. She wasn't here to win immortality; she was here to save her granddad, the only man who understood her, and loved her. He was all she needed to be happy, everyone else betrayed her. She didn't want to lose the only faith in humanity that she had left.

Amelia went to her seat just in time for the opera to begin.

She glanced over at Oswald, who was already positioned to play; he stared at his daughter's picture with a set look on his face. Just as he raised his fingers, mere inches from the colossal instruments keys, he took in a deep breath, composing himself. Then he played, and she could see the struggle he was going through, because although he played effortlessly, there was still that part of him that fumbled to pick up the pieces of a broken heart. Every time that part of him tried to fix it, he received a new wound from the shattered heart; the jagged sharpness had caused him to bleed.

Amelia felt a sudden urge to get this eternal life to her grandfather. Perhaps it was slightly selfish of her, but she didn't want to end up like Oswald. A pure genius, yes, but a broken man. And why would her granddad want that for her as well? If this was the only way she could keep him alive, then so be it. She didn't want him to be a bittersweet memory; she wanted him healthy and alive.

It was like chess, she decided, logic and strategic likelihoods. A strong balance with defense and offense. But who were the pawns in this game? What sacrifices would she have to make? She brushed these thoughts aside and focused on the opera.

One of the actors on stage held up a clear blue liquid in a lustrous glass. The elixir of life. Her eyes lit up, her heart pounded. The opera was at a close.

The actors drank the liquid, they were "frozen" in time, and their queen—_their_ determination—sang on in spirit. They were holding onto their memories, just like Mr. Whistler. Again, she felt a pang to help her granddad.

The lights came on signaling that the opera had ended. A few people clapped, but—like her—they were growing restless, and clapped impatiently. She didn't move a muscle, she was too tense to clap, and when the lights went out a second time, she jerked her head up.

"Ladies and gentlemen," a dramatic, lanky man called out from under the spotlight. He was masked, his gestures were stiff, and his voice boomed. "Welcome to my theatre, the Crown Petone, you are _truly _fortunate." He bent over in a sort of bow, moving in a slightly mechanical way to bring himself upright again. Then he continued with a loud voice. "For, tonight you will witness a miracle!"

The crowd burst out in boisterous applause.

"As was promised when you purchased your tickets_, tonight_ one person gathered from the audience here will receive... the gift of eternal life! However...there is _one_ condition," the people around her leaned forward in their seats. Some were fearful, some were indignant, and some were strangely calm. Her eyes were trained sharply on the man on stage, absorbing every word he said with intent. "All of you gathered here are going to play a little game. The rules are simple, the prize for the lucky winner..." she blinked, her eyes glimmered intensely. "Eternal life. But those of you who lose will lose their lives!"

His powerful voice had its effect, people surrounding her became panicky and anxious, perhaps she was too, but she was also confident. A woman next to her gasped and said "Why, he's a _madman_!" Amelia remained still, and ignored the strangers around her.

"You must admit, this is a small risk to those desiring such a _big_ prize..." he trailed off slightly, letting his words and the panic sink in simultaneously. It grew hard to ignore people around her when they were pushing through the aisle to escape, it seemed as though all human morals were lost when their own lives were at stake. Amelia was alarmed when someone pushed past her, stepped on her foot and stumbled away without another thought. They piled up the aisles trying to find a way to the exit. But they didn't get that far. Actors from the stage blocked their only chance to leave and before Amelia could bat another eyelash, the actors were masked henchmen, and the crowd was gone. She heard screaming resounding throughout the theatre. When she stood up to see where they had gone, she had to catch her breath.

They had fallen through the floor.

Sitting back down, somewhat shaky, she gulped and reminded herself that this was only a game of chess, and sometimes they need to be sacrificed to make the next move.

There was a sudden click that echoed through the room that brought her attention back to the stage. A strange man in uniform handcuffed the terrorizer on stage; he turned to face the audience dramatically and said "Fear not, I am inspector Grosky of the yard!" He puffed his hairy chest out. "My investigation showed that something suspicious would happen in this theatre tonight, and I am here to put a _stop_ to it! Ladies and gentlemen, no one will lose their lives, I inspector Grosky of the yard, have arrested this bare bollicle criminal!"

"Are you quite sure of that, inspector?" Amelia glanced down at the man who spoke, picking him out easily by his top hat. He sounded smart, she thought warily, but don't judge a book by its cover.

"I say, Layton, is that you?"

Amelia blinked in shock. She had just recently heard about him in the news. A famous puzzle solver. Immediately she began to form a rough strategy in her head.

"At your service," he said kindly, tipping his hat.

"Who's your little friend?

"Luke Triton," came a small voice.

She blinked again. There were children here?

"What the-"

Amelia gasped. The man handcuffed twitched and convulsed, and it seemed as if his hand had deflated.

"A puppet?" exclaimed Grosky, as the puppet beside him blew up like a balloon, raising into the air and bringing Grosky with him. She clenched her teeth and gripped her arm rests as the theatre trembled. Looking up, the roof was opening.

"Inspector!" Layton called. But it was too late, the puppet balloon was pierced by a spike on the roof and he was blown away. Layton stepped into the spotlight, holding his hat upon his head and looking up in distress.

There was a laugh that boomed through the entire place.

"Ladies and gentlemen, let us now begin our journey..._to eternal life_..."

Then the theatre shook, and trembled more than before, causing people to scream. Exactly what was going on?

The theatre unexpectedly lurched, and rocked as if they were on a giant boat. Amelia gripped the seat in front of her to stabilize her balance. The crown petone was now a boat!

People flooded out of the open doors, and Amelia was about to follow, when she noticed Mr. Whistler.

Still sitting where he was, he stroked his instrument. "Don't worry," he muttered "just leave everything to me..." Amelia's eyes widened when she realized he was talking to his dead daughter. "I will play...for you, who _so_ loved music."

She inhaled deeply and twirled a strand of hair, trying to convince herself it was all a part of the game. But what had she gotten herself into?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: I just wanted to thank everyone who reviewed, including…**

**Poppyclover: I'm glad you were excited; I was looking for a story to read about her, when I saw none! I love her, so I decided to write this!**

**Anthea Triton: Thank you so much!**

**Dandelion Oak: I really appreciate your thoughts on this, and I'm pleased to know you're enjoying it!**

**Nipah-Chan: I promise I'll try to keep it up, haha! Thank you!**

**You all have been a blessing! **

Mr. Whistler's old fingers came crashing down on the instrument. He played furiously, with a passion she had not seen before. The intense music found its way to her very core as she realized that she was alone on this ship. True, she had always been alone, even in some trying circumstances, but never so much as to strike fear into her.

People rushed into the theatre again, indignant and frustrated. They began shouting at Oswald for his carelessness.

But Amelia couldn't hear them. Her thoughts dwelled on the famous composer as well. She wondered why he would bring her on this ship, with people she never knew, in a circumstance completely surreal to her logical thinking. If he was so focused on his dead daughter, where was his mind? Did he have any foreknowledge of this? Perhaps he was simply along with the ride.

The music stopped.

She placed a hand over her beating heart, and watched as a funny dressed man accosted Oswald suspiciously. "Mr. Whistler," his accent was regal and rich like the way he dressed. "You are the one behind this opera. Tell me; are you also behind this deadly game?"

The famous musician stood ominously and stiffly at his bench and replied "I was asked to compose an opera," he turned to glare down at the short man. "That is all."

"Hmph. So you say." the small man didn't seem at all fazed by the level stare Mr. Whistler gave him, and only turned his head to the side, eyeing Oswald carefully.

Amelia made her way to stand in front of the stage. She didn't want to miss anything.

"Ladies and gentlemen, now that we're all passengers together on the Crown Petone, it is time for our little puzzle solving game...to begin."

"Puzzle solving?" she repeated softly. Wasn't that what the man with the top hat was known for? It seems as though she had competition.

She took in a breath to clear her mind.

"The rules are very simple. The winner-meaning the last player left-receives eternal life."

Amelia felt a flicker of annoyance inside of her. They knew this already. She began pulling at her hair to calm herself.

"Let us begin...puzzle number 001. Look around you ladies and gentlemen. Look for the oldest thing you can see. Gather by it. Sounds simple, but there is a catch"

The stage lit up again, and there was a sound of machinery cranking. From the stage rose a giant punched card, like you would see in a musical box.

Amelia wondered briefly if Oswald had invented it.

It began playing.

"When the music stops your time is up, if you want eternal life..._then there is no time to waste_."

Naturally, the people around her frantically scattered in different directions. They didn't take the time to just stop and think. The only ones that did got the answer right.

She knew the answer already, thanks to her Granddad.

_She was crying. Again._

_"What's wrong, Amelia?"_

_She looked up at her Grandfather, her eyes puffy and red. She was only six. Six year olds shouldn't be crying this hard. She felt a strong warm hand on her shoulder, and someone tilted her chin up._

_"Dear, dear Amelia...Won't you tell your granddad why you're crying?"_

_She sniffled, and hiccupped slightly, trying to choke out her words. "Daddy—daddy calls me m—mean things...and mommy gets yelled at t—too!"_

_As soon as she said it her small face contorted and she burst into a fit of tears again._

_Her Grandpa tried desperately to shush her, but she grabbed onto his pant legs and tugged._

_He lifted her onto his hip and chuckled "I'm getting too old for this, you know."_

_Amelia's wails simmered down to a slight blubbering noise as she buried her face into his neck, and listened to the sound of a smile in his voice._

_Suddenly he had an idea._

_"Do you know what's older than me, Amelia?"_

_She was silent for a moment or two, but he knew she was thinking._

_"A tyrannosaurus Rex."_

_He laughed. "Of course, but let's try something older, larger even."_

_She paused, slowly bringing her head up to face his, staring intently at him with blank eyes._

_But he knew she was trying to figure him out and her wide eyes blinked when his crinkled happily._

_"I wanna hint."_

_"A hint?"_

_She nodded._

_"Well, then...let's see..."_

_He began to hum a little tune to her, and as he went on her eyes began to widen in recognition._

_Then she tossed her head back and stared in wonder at the stars._

_"But grandpa...are you sure? You're so _old_!"_

_He laughed "that's beside the point. Amelia, when you're feeling down, will you promise me...to look up?"_

_She giggled and nodded._

_He smiled. Children were so resilient._

_"So what's older than me?"_

_She spread her hands out wide "The stars!" she exclaimed._

_"That's right," he said, "The stars."_

"Ladies and Gentlemen, your time is up. The oldest things you can see are the stars above you. To those of you in the theatre, congratulations. _You_ can continue. To those of you who got it wrong..."

Amelia tried to block out their screams, noticing fleetingly that Mr. Whistlers adopted daughter had returned, and was sitting by his side.

Then she looked back to the sky.

**A/N: I know it's short, but I was a little hesitant…again thank you to those who reviewed! I'm glad you like it! I'm always up for some advice to improve my writing, so if you have any, I will take it greedily :3**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Again, a big thank you to my reviewers, it makes me so happy that I know people are enjoying this!**

**Abitat Eco: Thanks so much! I'm glad I've convinced you XD I'll try to keep it up! Can't make promises though haha!**

**Dandelion Oak: Thank you!** **:3 I completely agree, it would've been boring to write, too! :) And thanks, it took a while to think of a name!**

**Anthea Triton: You're so sweet! You should **_**definitely**_** write a fic for Amelia! I love her! I'll be looking for it :D **

The instrument on stage flipped over.

"Let us proceed to puzzle number 002, now...go to where you can see the largest crown."

"The largest crown? Hmm." she pulled at a strand of hair thoughtfully.

"This is hardly a competition if he keeps gathering us all together." Pointed out the sailor.

She paused for a moment when she heard this. He was right. Only one person could win the competition, so if he means to get rid of them, he needs to gather them together. So this must be a trick question like the last.

"Oh, there are_ hundreds_ of crowns on display on this silly little ship, there is no way we can compare all of them in the time we have."

"She is right. There is _no_ time."

"Maybe all the crowns are red herrings.."

Amelia pondered how to make her next move, she was used to thinking quickly thanks to her experience with chess, and lessons from her grandfather, but this was far from chess despite how much she tried to convince herself.

But this was for her grandfather.

What time was it? How long were they going to be stuck here? She forced herself to remain collected, her exhausted eyes coming to a close as she listened to the collective mutters of those around her.

"Yes! That's it! The ship we're on is the Crown Petone!"

She flinched.

"Well done, my boy, I remember seeing there was a big crown at the entrance where we came in, on the sign with the theaters name on it!"

Amelia's heart gave a small start. The Crown Petone, of course!

Then her heart dropped. Maybe it's her distrust towards people, but something made her doubt the eccentric man's words. The way he gave a specific location as to where the crown was, and his dramatic show—when if he really wanted eternal life he would keep the answer to himself. He was on the same thoughts as her. Gather them together.

While a majority of the people left, she stuck behind with a few others.

The odd man frowned. "You're all rather hard to get rid of..." he said pulling on his beard and confirming her suspicions.

"That was wrong," said a man with a full head of red curly hair.

"Well, what do you expect?" a woman retorted, resting a hand on her chest and looking off to the side indifferently. "At least that only leaves a few of us." she sighed, and began to walk off. The rest followed, including Amelia.

They walked down a hallway silently; Amelia looked next to her at the red haired man.

"This is crazy, wouldn't you say?" he muttered.

She blinked.

"I never would've thought lives would be on the line, but as we used to say in training, survivor of the fittest, eh?"

"It's all rather strange," she replied carefully, not letting herself seem weak. "And I try not to think about that. It's all a part of the game."

He nodded, giving a small laugh. "Smart."

She looked away.

"It can put a load of guilt on you when you know that others are in jeopardy..."

What was he trying to do? Guilt _her_? She kept walking, not giving him a response.

"Ah, here we are!" said the odd man, opening the doors with a flourish. Then he added. "Right on time, too."

"What's _this_?" the woman replied. "Does he expect us to actually crank these?"

Amelia silently walked over to the nearest crank and struggled to move it. Others followed suit.

"Relax," said the sailor. "We'll do it fer ya, wouldn't want ya ter break a nail." he said in response to the woman.

"Hmph"

Amelia suddenly felt exhausted, today was emotionally draining and the cool night air reminded her how late it was.

"You need help with that?"

She turned around in shock, seeing the curly haired man behind her with a smile on his face.

She stepped out of his way when he reached for the crank.

"Thanks." she said, leaning against the wall and closing her eyes.

"Not a problem." he grunted.

She drifted off slightly.

_She was older, now. About eight, when she sat in her Grandfathers study and played with a wilting flower. She had decided the flower was like her, without the proper need for love and affection. Her Grandfather was on the phone with a lawyer, trying to keep his voice down as he fought for her on the other side of the doors. _

_She traced the bruise on her arm delicately, the purple color matching the flower perfectly._

"_Miss. Ruth," She looked up in wonder at the maid that entered the room. "Your granddad would like to see you now, sweetie." _

_She eyed the woman's hand carefully, before taking it. The woman smiled, and led her into the next room. "Now you just make yourself at home. Here, sit on the couch."_

_She did what she was told and stared in awe after the kind woman. _

"_Amelia," She turned towards her grandfather in anticipation, but hearing his voice laced with regret her shoulders sagged. "I'm afraid it may take some time before all this blows over…and I'm having some…difficulty regarding your parents…I'm sorry." _

_Tears stung the corner of her eyes. "I—it's alright, grandfather, really." They began pouring down her face involuntarily. "It's okay…really, it is." She wiped at the tears, trying to show her granddad how strong she was._

"_Amelia…" He said shaking his head. _

_He opened his arms for her, and with a pang in her heart, she jumped towards her grandfathers opened arms, trying to choke back the tears of sorrow, pain, and reality._

She was jerked awake by the sound of the man in front of her struggling.

She stepped forward to help, but he said. "No, that's alright I got it, I need to build up my strength for all it's worth." He smiled and glanced at her from the corner of his eyes

She didn't reply, but placed a hand on her hip and stared off at Mr. Whistler. She didn't trust him.

He began talking to the opera singer, and everyone turned to look when they finally noticed the man with the top hat.

"It appears you solved this puzzle, too."

"Yes." he responded politely.

"Hmph."

The man in front of her groaned, and she closed her eyes in disappointment.

"Well, I hope everyone don't turn up." he said in exasperation and continued cranking.

She ignored the rest of their conversation, drifting off once again.

As soon as everyone was in their boats, they began rowing.

"But...where are we going?

"We're going to where we can see the biggest crown, of course." Said the archaeologist to the small boy.

"But I can't see a crown anywhere."

"You'll see in a minute, Luke."

"But it was you who shouted out the ships name, and yet you still don't get it." Amelia looked off towards the ocean.

"Excuse miss...uh." The professor smiled at her.

"Amelia." She said, even though she didn't want to be on a first name basis with anyone. She stared with an unreadable expression at the professor, as he did the same.

"Amelia...how did you come to be at the theatre tonight?"

"Yes, a schoolgirl like you couldn't afford a ticket like that, it cost a small fortune."

She looked away, slightly embarrassed.

"Amelia didn't buy her ticket." Oswald cut in, and they looked at him in shock.

"She was invited. Sadly, I lost my daughter who loved music. I wanted to give a young girl the opportunity to hear my new opera, in her place. Of course, she had to be as talented as my daughter; I searched far and wide to find the right person. And I invited this special young girl..."

Amelia watched Oswald carefully, only glancing away when he mentioned her fame. She still didn't trust him, but she couldn't quite figure him out.

"She is very talented; you see, Amelia is a British chess champion."

The professor turned to look at Melina, and she hid in Oswald's elbow

"She's a bit shy..."

"Mr. Whistler, is it true that this girl came back to life, reborn as Melina?"

Amelia gasped. That would be impossible!

"Where did you hear that?" He glanced at the opera singer, "Nonsense, I adopted this girl, I only call her Melina as a sign of affection-"

"But-"

"Janice...it makes me happy that you wish Melina was still with us, but she's gone." Oswald sniffed, wiping at his eyes. "I had decided to carry on composing for her sake. When that man asked me to write an opera I agreed to do this for Melina. To play for my daughters memory...but I never expected this."

"Professor! The ship! It was the biggest crown all along!"

"Ladies and Gentlemen in the boats, my congratulations. You have come one step closer to eternal life!"

Boat rudders appeared on the boats, along with railings.

"Professor!" The boy exclaimed.

"Now sit back, enjoy the next part of your journey."

And then the ship exploded.

**A/N: taadaa! I updated! :o **

**I hope you're all enjoying this! And, again, I beseech thee to review! I wish to become a better writer, please!**


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